The Highest Court in the Land (Or, How Sugar got her Grand-dad back)
by DanDanger1
Summary: Set within the Don't Stop Me Now universe (but after the action of that story ends). 2018, three months before Sugar Elizabeth Pierce-Lopez is born, her Mami, a newly minted lawyer argues the biggest case in all of their lives in front of the highest court in the land. Rated M for language. But, not to pat myself on the back, but there's some pretty epic speeches.


**Author's Note: Obviously, I don't own glee, any songs referenced, etc. If I did, there would be a lot more Brittana and a lot better songs used. But anyway, this story just sort of popped in my head and refused to go away until I wrote it (like most that I write). It is a one-shot (maybe, if there's interest I'll add another chapter and make it a two-shot) story set within my Don't Stop Me Now (Future!Sugar) universe (wow, I'd never think I'd write enough fanfiction on any one fandom to have any 'universes'), and I may add other short stories that I don't expound upon in the main story in little one-or-two shot vignettes like this in the future. This one is based loosely on the claim that I'm too 'pro-Brittany', whatever that means and that Santana seems like a trophy wife (really, its just too early in the story to flush other things out yet, but I digress). Anyway, I got this idea and it wouldn't go away so I wrote it. I'm pretty happy with it, even though I sort of experimented with some things, artistically, I'm relatively happy with the way they turned out. **

**AN2: 1. This has a lot of sort of legal terminology, etc in here. And whilst I pride myself on doing the necessary research for my stories, I didn't do anything exhaustive for this one. I know literally nothing about American law or how your court system works, I did some research but I'm still pretty clueless. I hope it doesn't show. All the laws, cases, etc, I reference are made up. Some may or may not be based on real life thigns I read about on the internet but none of them are, as they stand, real, if that makes sense. 2. English is not my native language, as those of you who read my other stories may well know; I am from Israel and speak Hebrew and Spanish at home, British English is my third language. If anything is wrong in terms of grammar or terminology differences between UK and US English, let me know. Happy Reading!**

The Highest Court in the Land: Or, How Sugar Got Her Grand-Dad Back

The Future: early June, 2018

A heavily-pregnant Santana Pierce-Lopez sat at the kitchen table that served double-duty as her desk in the apartment she shared with her wife, Brittany. It was late at night and she pinched the bridge of her nose underneath her reading glasses in a combination of frustration and exhaustion, as if that would hold it at bay, for a while at least. Brittany had, repeatedly, offered her coffee to help her stay up, which she had resolutely refused because it was 'bad for the baby', despite Brittany lightly reminding her that the doctor had told them at their last prenatal exam that up to two cups of coffee per day wouldn't have a negative effect on the baby. The reason why she was up, working so late in the first place is that she was doing final preparations for the case she was working on. Santana was a lawyer – or would be soon, as she technically had to finish her last semester at Boston College law school and pass the Bar exam, which is why she was technically only a student assistant on this particular case working under the tutelage of the 'head counselor' on the case, who happened to be her professor and soon-to-be boss. Yet, despite the legal technicalities, this case was her metaphorical baby (unlike the quite real literal baby growing in her 6-months-pregnant belly), and her boss was more than happy to let her take the lead on the case after he found out how important this particular case was to her. Which is why she was still awake, and working, at a quarter to three in the morning, a week before the beginning of the trial of her life, intending to make sure that her case was indeed airtight, with no possible flaws her her proof or argumentation. This particular case was far too important to her. The case would be heard at the highest court in America, the Supreme Court of the United States, as it was a suit brought against the United States Congress for the passing of a law that repealed a law passed the previous year which had made it legal for the Federal Government to force states who didn't recognise same-sex marriages to recognise the marriages of those couples who married in states who did recognise such marriage, as per laid out in the Constitution, essentially making same-sex marriages finally legal across all 50 states. However, the recent legislation that was passed, and which would in a weeks' time be debated on the floor of the Supreme Court, sought to undue that very progress by giving the power back to the States to refuse to recognise or grant the benefits of marriage to same-sex married partners married in other states, stating that states could refuse to give marriage benefits to those married out of the state, effectively meaning that if same-sex married couples lived in states where same-sex marriages were still illegal to be performed, if upheld, this bill that was passed would single-handedly undo all the progress made towards marriage equality in the United States since she was in high school. And as a lesbian who was happily married to the girl of her dreams, with whom she was due to have a baby in three months' time, to say that this case was close to her heart was an understatement, at best. But, this case was so much more important than that to Santana, for yet another reason: the head counselor on the opposing legal team was David Pierce, Brittany's father, the man who should be her father-in-law and an excited soon-to-be-grandfather. Instead, he was the champion of the people fighting to devalue the marriage between her and his daughter; she shouldn't be surprised, after all, since this was the same man who kicked his daughter out of her childhood home the summer before their senior year at high school when she came out to him, simply because of her sexuality. Yet, all the same, the fact that he was the leader of the defence had made this case, in her mind, all the more personal, and she wasn't about to let him win, not in a million years, if it was the last thing she ever did.

Her wife, Brittany, had been of course the most brilliant, loving, supportive woman Santana could have asked for. She, too, realised that they had both come so far in such a short amount of time that sometimes it seemed like a fairytale, but she knew that it wasn't, and she knew that Santana had to fight this in court: this is why Santana had decided to study law in the first place, to fight for civil rights of people who couldn't fight for it themselves, and by all accounts from all of her classmates and professors, she was one of the best there was. Brittany also knew that this was Santana's was of protecting her, even now, like she had always done. Except now the people she was defending her from weren't bullies at school who called her names or threw slushies at her; they were people, being led by her own father, who were trying to demean and devalue her relationship – her marriage – with the girl she fell in love with all those years ago, whom was now carrying their child into its third trimester, whilst finishing law school, so that she, Brittany, could focus on her own research, as she had just begun her doctoral work at MIT. The fact that her own father still condemned their relationship, despite how real he knew it to be, is probably what hurt her the most. But despite all the hurt, she still missed him. A lot. More than she would admit to herself, let alone to Santana, who would fuss over her when she should be the one being fussed over, since she was six months pregnant, after all. Nevertheless, she did miss her father, and that part of her family. She was still in touch with her baby sister, who was finishing High School this year and intended to move out to either Boston or New York for university to be closer to Brittany, but as for her parents, she hadn't seen or heard from either of them since the day she came out to her parents the week before she started senior year.

Whenever Brittany thought about that day, it filled her with a strange combination of both utter sadness, and thankfulness. Sadness, because obviously, that sort of hurt and betrayal will never quite go away; but thankfulness because on the other hand, it acted as the catalyst for many amazing things that happened in her life. First, she moved in with Santana and they began to build their lives together, even from that young age, before they had even graduated from high school. Then for much of senior year, their daughter from the future, Sugar, wound up travelling back in time to that year, so she and Santana were able to see what amazing things their lives would have in store for them as long as they worked towards them and dealt with the bad things life dealt them together. Then she was accepted to MIT, despite her bad grades, due to her apparent mathematical genius on a custom-made degree track just for her, and Santana was accepted pre-law to Boston College; she was going to make a difference in the world, fighting for the rights of others who couldn't fight for them themselves. And then, at the end of their sophomore year of undergrad, they married each other in a beautiful, small ceremony in Boston, where they lived, and now their future daughter, Sugar, was on her way and would be with them in approximately three months' time. Everything she had ever wanted was finally coming together; she and Santana had managed to begin building a nice life together, she just hoped that taking on this case herself, personally, wasn't over-taxing on her heavily-pregnant wife. Santana was strong – stronger than most, as she knew – but she was still a pregnant woman, which meant that she was constantly tired, and moody, and went on weird tangents and her sleep pattern and attention spans were shot to hell, and she had weird cravings for foods that shouldn't ever go together, and Brittany just hoped that her being as supportive and helpful as she could would make it at least a little bit easier on her Favourite Person. She also hoped that, once Santana won the case – since she had absolutely no doubts in her mind that this is what the outcome would be – she hoped that, eventually her father would come around and they could begin to mend fences, because, truth be told, she missed her father, and hoped that her daughter could grow up knowing both sets of her grandparents, rather than just one.

It was to this atmosphere that a heavily-pregnant, frustrated, over-tired, over-worked Santana Pierce-Lopez looked up from her mountain of reference texts which she was reading by laptop light at a quarter to three in the morning, to see her beautiful wife and best friend leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, smiling indulgently and watching her work.

'What?' She asked tiredly. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

'Because I love you'

'What?'

'Come to bed,' Brittany said, offering her hand, beckoning her wife. 'Its nearly three in the morning, you need to sleep'

'I'll sleep when I'm satisfied that this is finished, and done right,' Santana replied, a bit tersely, though she didn't mean it that way. Brittany knew she was just tired and frustrated.

'Right, but you've been working on it for almost five hours now, and that's not including the time you actually spent in the office. Besides, you've been more or less done with this for at least a week already'

'But its not done, its not good enough, B...'

'San, I'm know lawyer, but I know you and I know how good you are. It will be fine, we'll win.'

'But you can't just...how do you...' Santana protested, flustered.

'I just know, San. You know how I am about these things. I'm just some kind of genius,' she said, winking as she approached her wife closer now to help her out of the chair she was sitting in, 'you know that I'm always right, so stop fighting it and come to bed'

'But Britt...'

'No buts. You are pregnant, Santana Pierce-Lopez, and that means that you .sleep. You're cooking our little Sugar in there, and in order for her to come out perfect and healthy and happy, her Mami needs to make sure that she keeps herself fit and healthy and that, my dear wife, means you need to sleep,' she said, pulling her wife out of the chair and into a standing position, despite the half-hearted protests of her Latina wife, 'Now come on, Babe, let's go to bed. This will still be there in the morning, but right now, I think you need to get in bed, let me rub your feet and shoulders, and then get some sleep.'

The latina sleepily nodded her acquiescence – after all, she would do anything for Brittany, the baby, or both – took off her reading glasses, closed her laptop, and walked with her wife to their bedroom.

As they were getting ready for bed – Santana for the first time, Brittany the second – Brittany was overcome by the urge to stand behind her wife and give her a comforting hug. Coming to stand behind her wife, she wrapped her up in her arms the way the other girl liked, hoping to convey as much love and support as she could through the gesture.

'Everything will be fine, Santana,' she said. 'I know how hard you've worked, and how good your arguments are, and how much on the right side of the law you are, Babe. You deserve this, and you'll win'

'But what if we don't?'

'You will'

'But what if we don't? This is the highest court in the country, B. If they uphold the bill, that's it. There's no one else to appeal to. It's over. Marriage and family equality in this country is dead.'

'And that won't happen, because you won't let it'

'I'll try my best, Britt, but I can't make promises, I mean these things are a lot of times just as much about politics as they are the law – even if people don't like to admit that – what if they bow down to conservative politics? I mean like the groups your dad works for? What happens then? And I mean, I'm not even supposed to know this, but a little birdy told me that your dad himself will be arguing the case for the defence, and as much as just thinking about him makes me angry for everything he's put us through, I have to admit that he is a damn good lawyer and he certainly is going to bring his A game, and...'

'San...San...Santana, honey,' Brittany said, calmly, trying to reassure her wife before she got herself too worked up. 'Just focus on the case right now. We'll deal with my dad another time, because that is a whole different animal,' she said calmly, even though her voice wavered the tiniest bit as it still did sometimes when she thought or spoke about her parents; Santana was the only person who could notice it, but it still happened. 'As for the case, I'm sure you'll win. I know it. My dad is a very good lawyer, yes, but even the best lawyers can't win when they are defending something legally and morally indefensible. Plus, from what I hear, you're pretty damn good yourself,' she added playfully, trying to reassure her wife who's natural tendency towards passionate emotional outbursts had increased exponentially with the pregnancy hormones. 'I'm positive you'll win. It's in the bag. But,' she added, in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, 'in the worst-case scenario, if something absolutely unthought of happens and you lose...this changes nothing for us. We are still happily married, here in Boston, and in New York if we wind up moving there next year when I graduate and you get that job. We are having a baby who we will be meeting in three month's time. We have worked out our major issues long ago, and love each other more and more every day, and only argue about stupid little things like any other couple. This changes nothing. If anything, the only thing that would mean is that we never go back to Ohio until they legally recognise our family,' Brittany said proudly, and firmly, in a voice that would brook no argument.

'Just like we always talked about,' Santana added in a somewhat dreamy voice.

'Just like we always talked about,' Brittany agreed, as first Santana, and then Brittany, got into bed.

'I love you, Brittany,' she said, as she lay in bed, waiting for her wife to snuggle in next to her, before sleep took them both.

'I love you too, San,' Brittany said heavily. She placed her hand on her wife's stomach where she immediately felt their daughter kick, 'and I love you too, my little Sugar Bean, and I can't wait to meet you'

With that, they fell asleep almost instantaneously in their usual positions, with Brittany as big spoon and Santana as little spoon.

David Pierce liked to think of himself as a patient man. One did not get as far as he had in his career, or deal with as much as he had in his personal life as he had, without being patient. But this was getting ridiculous. The trial was supposed to start with beginning procedurals and opening statements almost forty-five minutes ago, but they were being delayed by the absence of the junior counsellor on the team for the prosecution. Normally such a thing wouldn't even be entertained in any court, let alone the highest court in the land, but the lead counsellor for the prosecution had insisted that she was vitally important, and no proceedings could begin without her, and that there was a completely valid reason for her tardiness. He, of course, had no idea what kind of an excuse could possibly be, but rather than voice his discontent, he sat in his chair and stewed as he – and everyone else – waited for Santana Pierce-Lopez, counsellor for the prosecution.

Santana Pierce-Lopez. Santana Lopez. Santana. David Pierce had made many mistakes in his life, but how he had dealt with Santana Lopez, and Brittany's relationship with her, was probably the greatest one he had ever made, he knew, and he also knew one that would be the most difficult to repair. He had picked up the phone to call his estranged daughter so many times over the years: he yearned to hear her voice, see her face become animated when she talked about something she cared about, to see her in person and feel her arms around him in an embrace like they once did so many years ago, before he made the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life. But he had always stopped himself. Because of Santana. He knew that Brittany was fiercely loyal to the other girl – just as Santana was loyal to her – and in order to get back within the good graces of his daughter, which he wanted more than anything, he would also have to get back in the good graces of the other girl, no, woman now; and this was a task of Herculean difficulty, which he had always found reasons to avoid. And then there was the surname. Pierce-Lopez. He of course knew that they had wed in Boston a few years ago, just like he knew about Brittany's ground-breaking work at MIT and that Santana was at the top of her class at BU law; all things he had found out second-hand from Brittany's younger sister. But something was different about it now, being here in the same building, seeing it on all the documentation...it made it more real, somehow. Because it hadn't quite been real to him before since he was, of course, not invited to the wedding (not like he would have come in the first place), and it had a distinctly different, more permanent feel to it. Of course he had known the two girls were madly in love with each other when they had first started getting together, even before they told him – but he had hoped that nothing would come of it until he had finished his work for these lobby companies, and the issue would be decided for them. But, as history had shown, that was not the case, and he had made a series of disastrous mistakes in relation to his daughter and her relationship with the woman who was now her wife, at least in the eyes of 27 States, if he did his job correctly.

Of course, this in and of itself made him all the more torn up inside. It wasn't like he was personally against same-sex unions, and he certainly would never wish for his own daughter's marriage to be devalued, seen as not as valid or any of those things. She was his daughter still, after all, and he wanted her to be happy. And he knew, even from the second-hand accounts, and what he remembered about how the girls were together before that fateful day, and he knew that Santana made Brittany happy in every possible way, and he was sure the same was true when the shoe was on the other foot, as well. Which made what he did all the worse: because he wasn't ideologically against same-sex marriages, he was only against it for professional reasons. The organisations whom he was employed by were 'Traditional Family Values' organisations, stressing values like traditional Christianity, public prayer, and being anti equal rights for homosexuals. Of course, he had taken the job long before Brittany was even in puberty, let alone discovering her own sexuality or falling in love with a woman. And he was advancing swiftly in his career, and the money was very, very good. _It had better have been, it needed to be to make it worth it to sell my soul the way I did_, he thought bitterly to himself. And of course when Brittany had come out, he had panicked. He couldn't afford a scandal like that, since the organisations he worked for were riddled with scandals and riddled with media enquiries left right and centre at the time, and he made a snap decision, which, in hindsight was very much the wrong one. But he was worried about losing his very good job, and he had not only Brittany, but his wife, his other daughter, and his ailing mother, also to worry about and take care of, financially. Of course, he had regretted it immediately, but was too proud to do anything about it, still hoping that perhaps Brittany would come back to him of her own accord, even though he knew that was highly unlikely. And as the years passed, his regret and shame had become even greater and stronger, as it made him realise that, at its heart, it meant that all he was was a coward. A sell-out. A Judas, who would – and had – sold out his own flesh and blood, his own child, for thirty pieces of silver.

And then there had been Santana herself. She was, of course, furious with him for quite a long time. In the immediate wake of what had happened, she had called his cellphone multiple times, furious, first yelling, and then crying, distraught, over what she viewed as his betrayal. And it was just that. Of course he wouldn't admit it to her at the time, but she was right. He had betrayed her trust, and her affection, and what might have at one time even been love. And those feelings had been there once, truly. For a period of almost three years from the end of middle school until the girls' sophomore year, Santana had basically lived at the Pierce's home, and he had taken on – gladly – the role of surrogate father for a lost little girl whose parents, whilst physically alive and technically around, albeit very rarely, were emotionally non-existant. And because of him, he thought at the time, though now he realised it was probably equally, if not moreso, due to the influence of Brittany, she had become a lovely, loving, kind, intelligent and resilient young woman, even if she did often hide behind a mask of sarcasm and meanness. They had been so close, in fact, that at one point early in the girls' sophomore year, Santana had come into his office late one night, and asked him, bravely, if he thought that girls could love other girls the way they were supposed to love boys, and if she was a girl who loved girls, if he thought that her abuela would still love her anyway. They had bonded that night, after a long, emotionally draining conversation. Of course, he didn't know at the time that the girl she thought – knew, really – she was already in love with at that time was Brittany, and she didn't tell him, though he probably could have figured it out if he had paid a bit more attention. But of course, all of that had gone out the window the day he issued Brittany that ultimatum, and she had chosen Santana and he kicked her out of the house. As time went on, she no longer called him, either furious or distraught, neither yelling nor crying. But there were a lot more instances of his tyres being slashed, or his car being keyed, or his home or office being coated in eggs and toilet paper. He of course was almost positive this was Santana's alter-ego, Snixx's, handiwork, but he had no concrete proof – and honestly, he thought it would be good for the girl to let out her anger and vent her frustration in such a way, as long as she wasn't taking it out on herself or his daughter, he could deal with petty vandalism – so he pressed no charges. Then, a few years ago, once the girls were in Boston, the phone calls started again. They first started when they got engaged. They usually happened during major life events, or on his birthday, especially, and she always rang at times when she knew he would be busy so that she would be able to leave a voicemail. They were all basically variations on the same theme: _Hi Mr. P. This is Santana. You know, the dyke you helped to raise who stole your daughter from you? I'm just calling to let you know how happy Brittany and I are together without you in our lives. And I hope you realise that there is nothing that would make me happier than to know that you know that no matter how many more of these birthday calls I make to you, there is almost nothing that you can say or do to apologise enough for what you did to us that would make us ever want to see you ever again for the rest of your miserable life. So I hope you have a happy birthday without us, because we are having a great time without you. _He knew that these were all Santana's doing, as no matter how much he had hurt Brittany, he knew that she, unlike Santana, was not spiteful, and would not approve of some of these messages, regardless of how much he probably deserved them. He only hoped that someday, perhaps, he could at least try to make ammends so that they – he, his daughter, and his daughter-in-law – could begin, at least, to rebuild their relationship.

Finally, however, the chamber door opened, rousing him from his musings, as he heard that still all-too-familiar voice arguing with the security guard at the chamber door, who apparently didn't want to let her in.

'Look at me, you giant landwhale. See this? This is a personnel badge, that lists this courtroom and lists me as a lawyer in the case. And see this briefcase? Its filled with notes on this case! I have a right to enter this chamber, and I am NOT in the mood to play right now, so if you don't move out of the way right this very instant, I will go ALL Lima Heights on your ass!'

The guard moved out of the way, of course, probably more out of confusion than fear, as he had no idea what 'going Lima Heights' exactly entailed, and after all, she was a tiny woman compared to the brick wall of a security guard – but her documents were in order and she seemed to be a woman he did not want to argue with, so he just stood aside and let her pass.

David Pierce looked towards the familiar voice in a combination of indulgence and frustration to see a heavily-pregnant Santana Lopez walking – or, more accurately though less flatteringly, waddling – down the centre aisle towards the courtroom floor, one hand carrying her briefcase and brusquely swinging it with the pace of her strides, the other hand awkwardly placed on her stomach.

'Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, Your Honours,' she said as she approached the judges and the table on one side of the courtroom where the prosecution team was seated. 'I am terribly sorry, Your Honours, I didn't mean to hold up this court. I tried my best to do everything so I wouldn't be in this state this morning – I didn't even have coffee this morning,' she said apologetically. 'But no matter what I do or don't do, apparently this little one already has a mind of her own, and she decided that we were going to spend that past 45 minutes in a toilet cubicle,' she said, apologetically blathering on, the hormones – probably, David thought hopefully, after he got over the absolute shock of seeing Santana Lopez waddle into the courtroom clearly at least six months pregnant – making her not realise she was over-sharing to a room full of supreme court justices and journalists covering the case on the floor of the Supreme Court of the United States.

'Its quite alright, dear,' Ruth Bader-Ginsburg, the eldest of the justices said to her as she approached. 'Sometimes these things can't be helped, its the nature of the way things are,' she said kindly. 'When are you due?'

'Just under three months,' Santana said, overjoyed that she wasn't being scolded, and internally screaming with excitement that she was making pregnancy small talk with one of the most distinguished legal minds of a generation.

'That is very soon,' Justice Ginsburg replied. 'Are you sure you are able to handle the stress of this case and wouldn't like to delegate your role here to someone else?'

'I am perfectly capable of doing my job, Your Honour,' Santana said confidently.

'Very well, Ms...?'

'Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, Your Honour,' Santana said, stressing perhaps a little more than necessary the fact that she was married. 'I am Santana Pierce-Lopez, Your Honours,' she added as she took her spot next to her boss and professor.

'Ah, so you are the amazing Santana Pierce-Lopez, who plays such a vital role in this prosecution that we couldn't begin proceedings until you were here,' one of the other justices said, not unkindly.

'Yes, Your Honour'

'Well, very well then. I, for one, look forward to seeing what you can do,' he said, motioning her to sit down as the court was finally called to order and put in session.

Whilst all this was going on, and all through the beginning procedurals, only one thought was going through David Pierce's head: _Santana is pregnant. Santana is pregnant. With Brittany's baby. Probably. Maybe. I'm not clear on the specifics of how that works. __And she said it was a 'her' so they probably know its a girl already. __But Brittany and Santana are having a baby – and its due in less than three months. I'm going to be a Grand-dad, in less than three months, and there is a real possibility that I will never know my grandchild. _

The trial had gone on for four days, and was now into its fifth, and presumably final, day. These days had been long, frustrating, grating days that left Santana completely physically and emotionally drained, and they were starting to take their toll. By the end of the second day, after having to put up with the absolutely horrible things that were said in some of the testimony – especially about the validity of same-sex relationships and their ability to provide stable, loving homes for children, as well as those which questioned the ability of same-sex couples to have the same standards of love, affection and other such emotions in their relationships – through which she had to sit silently and not lash out as she would have loved to do, she simply went home to the hotel room she and Brittany were sharing for their time in DC, and cried whilst Brittany held her and rubbed her back soothingly. She had no idea how or why so many people were so misguided, and had to be so cruel; she had no idea how people could be so violently and virulently vocal in their opposition to something which had no affect on their day-to-day lives; she had no idea how the fact that she loved Brittany and Brittany loved her, more than anything in the world, and so they had gotten married could be anything other than a matter between themselves and their close friends and family only, and why it had to, for some reason, become a matter of public debate whether people like them should be 'permitted' the same rights as everyone else. This trial was taking a physical and emotional toll on her: after the first night when she cried herself to sleep, she would come home and cry every night. And every night, Brittany would hold her in her arms and tell her that everything would be okay, and that she loved her, and that they would provide the best home possible for their daughter, and that everything would be ok in the end. Last night, Brittany didn't even bother speaking or telling her anything, because she knew that Santana was beyond caring, and beyond the point where words would have meaning. So, she simply held her pregnant wife in her arms and sang Songbird to her whilst she cried. It had gotten to the point where it had become so bad, and so draining that she had considered going home early, and letting her Professor and soon-to-be boss handle the closing argument of the case, and just go home to Boston where she felt safe and accepted for who and what she was. Brittany had told her that she would support Santana in whatever she decided, and had even begun to help her pack, when Santana had gotten her 'second wind'. She was Santana Pierce-Lopez. She didn't give up on things, or quit, or give up when it got tough. She didn't abandon her responsibilities or leave her 'team-mates' when they needed her most. And now, her fellow legal team needed her, and all of the gay community across the country, and indeed the world, watching this court case with bated breath, needed her. This case was her metaphorical baby, she built it, she proofed it, she made sure everything was airtight and perfectly defensible. She had to stick it out, just until the end of the day, to give her closing argument. Then she could go home with her wife and go back to their normal lives. And so the day went by, sometimes speeding by like a bullet train, other times dragging by like a snail, but eventually the time came for closing arguments. The closing argument for the defence was given, of course, by the head counsellor, Brittany's Dad. It was good, but it wasn't great. He didn't have a leg to stand on, legally, or morally, and he knew it. And it showed. Santana breathed a sigh of relief. Brittany was right. It was in the bag. All she had to do was deliver her closing argument, and let justice be served.

'And now, we'd like to call on a counsellor for the prosecution to deliver their closing arguments,' Justice Ginsburg said. Santana rose from her chair as gracefully as a six months-pregnant woman could.

'Your Honours,' she began, beginning to pace around the chamber floor in her best imitation of the stereotypical 'simple southern lawyer' she saw on all those legal films she watched with Brittany growing up, except without the accent. Brittany called it her 'Foghorn Leghorn defence'. 'Your Honours, my legal team and I have spent four days arguing against the team for the defence which has presented many erroneous, odious, irrelevant, and at times, frankly, offensive, arguments, which they present as reasons why this court should uphold the Constitutionality of this bill. However, as I and my legal team have demonstrated, that very Constitutionality they urge you to uphold is the very same reason why this bill must be declared unconstitutional and illegal. We have demonstrated how through many legal cases – both decided in the courts and on the legislative floors – including the landmark case of Wells VS the United States as well as the upholding of the Constitutionality of the Equal Family Rights Act of 2016, both of which were taken to this very court and enshrined within the legal corpus we now use today, demonstrate legal precedent for the position of the prosecution. We have demonstrated the out-and-out not only unconstitutionality and illegality, but also the immorality of what this bill is attempting to do: that is, to single out same-sex marriages and post-hoc, ergo propter hoc make them illegitimate on a state-by-state basis by denying them the full faith and credit of recognising marriages performed in states which recognise same-sex marriages within states that do not, which we have demonstrated with precedent, is blatantly unconstitutional, as it is one of the few things blatantly spelt out in the Constitution. We have demonstrated these things beyond a shadow of a doubt, Your Honours, and for this reason alone, it is your responsibility as upholders of the law, to strike this bill down as unconstitutional.

But moreso than that, Your Honours, this case is about more than just the unconstitutionality of this recent bill that Congress has tried to pass, and tried to force second-class citizenship on a large portion of Americans under all of our noses. This case is now, Your Honours, at least partially for that reason, about sending a message to the American people, as well as the entire wider world at large – a message of whether or not it is the opinion of this Court, the Supreme Court of the United States, that gay people are equal citizens under the law – and therefore entitled to all the same rights and privileges, and responsibilities that entitles, including the right to fall in love, marry, and start a family with whomever they chose – or not; or whether it is the opinion of this Court that gay people are second-class citizens, forever doomed to have a "separate but equal" status in this country,' she continued, heaping on as much sarcasm and disdain in her voice as she could as she made inverted commas in the air with her fingers as she mentioned 'separate but equal'. 'I trust, Your Honours, that you will make the right decision.

That said, Your Honours, if it pleases the court, I would like to use my remaining time to demonstrate the fact that this is not just an academic exercise, this is not just about hypothetical issues. This is about real people, living real lives,' she paused again, momentarily, before getting the approval to continue from the Justices in front of her.

'Thank you, Your Honours. That being the case, I would like to tell you a story about two little girls from Ohio who met in Mrs. DiMarco's first grade class. They were both seen as outsiders from the rest of the class: one for being Latin and from the wrong side of the tracks, as stereotypical as that may sound, the other for having her head in the clouds and thinking differently than all the other kids. They bonded over their different-nesss, and by the end of that first week, they were best friends, and inseparable. Time passed quickly for the girls, as it often does, and before anyone knew what happened, they were in middle school. They had made more friends, of course, but they were still inseparable best friends forever. They had secret handshakes, and pinky promises and inside jokes, and had even invented a secret language only the two of them could speak. And soon, they started to discover other parts of life, and hobbies: they joined cheerleading, and karate, horseback riding, art classes, soccer. All of it, they did together. Then they went to high school, and they continued cheerleading together, and joined the glee club and started singing and performing. One was an amazing dancer. And they hit puberty, and everything in their lives became crazy and confusing and they didn't know which way was up, and many nights one girl would often be caught sleeping over at the others' house, even on school nights, so much so that many people joked that they didn't know which girl belonged to which family or which house any more. They were inseparable, and even after they hit their growth spurts and became beautiful young women and started dating and exploring other, more confusing, aspects of life, they were inseparable. They were best friends. They loved each other like only two girls who had been friends for so long could. And then, something strange, and wonderful and terrifying and confusing all at once happened: they fell in love. With each other. And then things got hard, even after they admitted their feelings to each other, it became difficult. They had issues at school, in public, and at home,' she said, looking pointedly at Brittany's Dad, 'one even suffered so much she got kicked out of her own home, simply for loving who she loved. But they had each other, and they got through it, and it made their love all the stronger for it,' she said, pausing to smile and think of those times before continuing, 'and after they graduated from High School, they both moved to Boston together, one to attend MIT, the other to attend BU, and began to build a life together. In late spring of 2014, they were married in Boston, where same-sex marriages had been recognised as legal in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for over a year at that point, and,' she said, pausing for breath and caressing her plump baby bump as Sugar kicked excitedly, 'they will be welcoming into the world a baby daughter in just under three months' time, and they love each other more and more every single day,' she paused again, slightly choked up at her own words, and the emotion behind them – she also thought she saw Justice Bader-Ginsburg surreptitiously wipe a tear from her eye.

'Your Honours, I know as a lawyer prosecuting this case, I'm supposed to remain impartial and emotionally uninvested and uninvolved in this case, but I can't. I am emotionally invested. I am a girl who loves girls, Your Honours, and I have been married to the woman of my dreams, the love of my life for almost four years now. I was lucky enough to fall in love with my best friend, and have her fall in love with me, and we are happily married. We are lucky enough to live in a location which recognises our marriage for what it is: a marriage. Which means that we both have spousal rights. If Brittany or I are in hospital, we have visitation rights. If, god forbid, something happens to one of us, the other is taken care of on pensions and such as a spouse. When we have our baby, my wife will not have to post-hoc adopt her – the Commonwealth of Massachusetts will automatically recognise her as our daughter's other mother, since she is my wife, and therefore if something were, god forbid, again, to happen to me, she wouldn't have to fight long, drawn out custody battles for the intrinsic human right to be able to have custody of her own daughter. This is the case for us, because we live in Boston. If, however, we lived in our hometown of Lima, Ohio, this wouldn't be the case, because Ohio doesn't recognise same-sex marriages. So many same-sex couples across the country are not nearly as lucky as my wife and I are, in this regard. The Equal Family Rights Act, which this current bill seeks to destroy, is the last best hope of many people in this country that the issue of same-sex marriages will finally be resolved, that my wife and I, and many others like us across the country and the world will finally be vindicated, that we will finally be told and be able to know that, in the eyes of the law, our relationships, our marriages are equally as valid and as worthy and as real as any heterosexual marriage, and that we are not, in fact, second-class citizens. This is not some issue I can simply deliver a dispassionate recounting of the facts, though I hope I have managed to do that, as well. This is something that affects me, and the person I love, on a very personal level. And many others more besides. This _is_ a matter which we must take personally, and get passionate about. We learned from the precedent set by Head vs Alabama in 2014, when the State of Alabama denied Mr Head access to the body of his husband and labelled the death certificate 'Never Married', essentially erasing their entire relationship because that particular state had banned same-sex marriage, that change only comes when we get passionate, and make these issues personal. If the people fighting that case didn't take it personally, his suit may not have been successful. Likewise, if we do not take this case personally, many will tend to view this as an abstract legal discussion, and not an issue that affects actual, real, living, breathing, loving people, and as something we must take action on to right a terrible wrong. This case affects us all, Your Honours.

This bill, should it be allowed to pass into law, would make countless decent, honest, kind and hard-working people across the country into unwilling accomplices to the systematic oppression of the largest minority group in the country, and quite possibly the world. You must ask yourselves, if you are to allow this bill to become law, would you be willing to enforce the legal consequences of such a decision? Would you be willing to tell my wife, should I die, God forbid, that she has no legal right to visitation to my body? Would you tell her that she and I were never married, according to the law, and therefore my death certificate will make it as if our entire relationship – which has spanned almost 20 years since we first met – never existed? Would you be willing to tell her that since in the eyes of the law we were never married, that she isn't the other mother to our daughter and that she has to give up custody to turn her own daughter into a ward of the state?' She asked, pausing to let her passions and temper settle to a professionally-appropriate level, as she could tell that her natural tendency towards passionate emotional displays, coupled with the hormones, was about to make her begin to either yell, or cry, or possibly even both, and none of those options would help her make her case effectively. She paused, breathing deeply, calming her nerves, and surreptitiously wiping a cheeky tear away from her eye that had escaped against her will, before she continued once again.

'I would hazard to guess that you would not. Likewise, would you want – or even accept – such legal decisions and restrictions on the happiness and lifestyles of individuals if those involved in such matter were not just random strangers but your acquaintances? Your friends? Your family? Your own children? Because if this bill is allowed to pass into law, you could very well be damning people who are close to you, perhaps even your own flesh and blood to the status of second-hand citizenship. I implore you, Your Honours, make the right decision. States _cannot_ be allowed to decide for these issues for themselves. They _cannot_ be allowed to decide for themselves, on an ad-hoc basis, whom they consider to be married and whom they don't. The states must be forced to recognise same-sex marriages, even if they refuse to make performing such marriages within that particular state legal. To do otherwise is to actively force a large segment of the population into second-class citizenship.

I believe in the promise of what America is supposed to be; when I was growing up I was told stories about how my Mom came here from Puerto Rico and my Dad's family came here from Mexico, both with practically nothing. But they worked hard, and did everything the way they were supposed to, and they were rewarded. They both became very well-regarded, successful, important doctors, and spend most of their time providing medical care to kids all over the world who don't have access to such medical care. I was raised to believe that the one thing this country promises to everyone – everyone – who comes here, no matter who they are, where they come from, or anything else, is the promise that here, in America, all people are created equal. And because of that everyone is equal under the law. But my experiences first as a latina, then as a lesbian, and now as a lawyer has made me doubt such promises. Make me believe again, Your Honours. Prove to me that the promise of America still rings true. Be on the right side of history. Strike down this legislation as the hate-filled, unconstitutional piece of trash that it is. And with that, Your Honours, the prosecution rests its case.'

'That being the case, having heard all the testimony and all the arguments for both the defence and the prosecution, Court will adjourn so that we may reach a decision,' the Chief Justice announced, as they all got up and left the main chamber to a corridor which, presumably, would take them to a conference room which would decide the fate of the happiness and livelihoods of thousands, if not millions, of people.

It was a very short deliberation. So short, in fact, Santana was even surprised how little time the justices took to deliberate the case, and her soon-to-be boss and Professor told her it was the quickest deliberation on a case of this nature that he had ever been present to, or even heard of, in his 35 years practising law.

They had barely emptied the chamber into the various corridors and antechambers, and Brittany had just sat down next to Santana on a bench in the corridor clutching two Starbucks cups, one containing green tea, the other one of those crazy flavoured coffee concoctions that Brittany loved so much. Brittany had barely had enough time to hand Santana her tea, grasp her hand, thread their fingers together, and whisper into her wife's ear how much she loved her and how proud of her she was when the bailiff had informed them that the justices had reached a decision, and that they should re-enter the chamber. This was of course surprising to all parties involved, as they expected with a case of such a high profile and importance, to take at least a few hours of deliberation, if not a few days, which was why Brittany and Santana had booked their hotel room through the weekend and into the beginning of the next week, just in case. So, needless to say, they were surpised – a combination of pleasant and nervous surprise – when they were informed that the court had reached a verdict so quickly. However, they filed into the chamber as they were bidden.

As the excited murmur echoed through the chamber, the Chief Justice began to bang his gavel to quieten down everyone in the chamber: the respective legal teams, the numerous news media outlets who were covering the case, as well as the selected people – which included Brittany, her sister Liz, and unbeknownst to either of them, William Shuester – who were permitted to watch from the gallery. As soon as the chamber was quieted down to a reasonable level where he could speak clearly and be heard without shouting, he spoke.

'It is my pleasure to announce that this court has come to a decision in this landmark case at a remarkably fast pace, and we attribute this largely to the ability of the legal teams for both the prosecution and the defence to deliver well formed, clear, and cogent arguments and present them in as effective a way as possible, and for that, we thank all parties involved. It is also my distinct pleasure to announce our ruling. In the case number USSC20443957, also known as The People vs The United States Congress, in regards to the constitutionality of the bill that has recently been passed in both the House of Representatives and the Senate, HR2356/SEN20048, this court rules, in a 7 to 2 decision, that said bill is, indeed, unconstitutional, and order that it be struck down as such, and therefore illegal. It shall be struck from all records, all voters held within shall be eliminated from the docket and debate for whatever may still be up for debate on the floor of the congress, and a precedent shall be hereby set that States are not entitled to set their own marriage policy that goes against Constitutionally guaranteed rights of Full Faith and Credit or any other Federally mandated policy, especially when such policies set by said individual States are used to systematically deny civil rights to any citizen or legal resident of this country, regardless of race, creed, sex, gender, national origin, sexual orientation or preference, or any other category.'

Everything went silent. Santana wasn't sure if it was that the chamber had actually gone silent from shock, or if she had simply lost her sense of sound from the shock of what she had just heard. For at least a full minute, all she heard was the sound of her own heart beating.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. _

She saw the justices on the bench shaking hands and congratulating themselves on a job well done; justice had been served.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. _

She saw the reactions of the people in the gallery: many of ecstatic joy – literally jumping for joy in their seats, hugging, crying – but also many of dejected, and disappointed faces too, and that made Santana want to cry.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. _

Reporters standing in front of tv cameras. Photographers moving to the centre aisles of the chamber, snapping photographs. The legal team for the defence offering each other support and commiserations.

_Thump thump. Thump thump. _

And then she saw the one, and only, thing she really wanted to see in that moment. She saw the beautiful blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and broadly smiling face of the only person she cared about in that moment, excitedly striding towards her. As soon as she saw the face of her favourite person as she strode towards her, their eyes locked, and Brittany's smile grew even broader, and suddenly everything else faded to grey, to a dull, blurry, background noise. She was intellectually aware that there were still people and things going on in the background, but she no longer cared; it was as if everything else had faded to nothing, to mere white noise in the background, and half a heartbeat later, Brittany strode to her and without warning embraced her as if she and Brittany were the sailor and nurse from that famous picture from the VJ-Day parade in New York after world war two ended. Brittany crushed their lips together passionately, at the same time wrapping her arms around Santana and embracing her tightly, even managing to make their knees buckle and their bodies dip – at least as much as was physically possible, Santana being as pregnant as she was – with the passion of their embrace and kissing. Santana was vaguely aware, at the very back of her mind, of photographers – she wasn't sure how many, but she was sure it was more than one – snapping photo after photo of them and their embrace, and whilst she was sure that tomorrow she would not be particularly happy that photographers chose to photograph and, surely, publish pictures of such a private, intimate moment between them – even if it was in public – but she also knew that there was nothing she could do to stop it at this point, as she was just going to have to deal with it, and, more immediately, she just frankly didn't care. The only thing she cared about in that moment was kissing her wife back with as much passion and vigour as she was being kissed.

When they finally broke apart from each other, they did not move away from each other, still standing and embracing as closely as they were for as long as they felt they could. They ran their hands over each others' face, and through each others' hair, and wiped excited, happy, tears of joy from each others' eye; it was almost as if they were embracing each other as if they had only just been re-united from a very long, trying separation and could hardly believe the other person was really there. In fairness, there was a significant amount of disbelief shared between the two wives, but not about the others' physical presence, as they had been holding hands no more than a half an hour previous. However, the fact of the monumentality of the decision that had just rung through the chamber – and by now, across the internet and television waves, around the world – was almost as unbelievable to them. True enough, Brittany was confident this was the decision the court would take, and had told Santana as much multiple times, and Santana had worked herself to the bone in order to make sure this decision was, in fact, the outcome of the case. But, in the back of the deepest, darkest corners of both of their minds, neither girl truly dared to believe it would ever really, truly happen, and so they were overcome with so much emotion when it actually occurred that it poured out of them like a river. Eventually, they broke their embrace, but still remained close to each other, pinkies intertwined.

'Hi,' Brittany said softly to Santana.

'Hi,' Santana replied.

'You did it, San. You did it. This – this amazing, wonderful thing – you did this, you. I knew you could San, see, I told you!' Brittany said, animatedly. Santana could only smile in a response while she got a handle on her emotions enough to speak.

'I was only able to get through this far because of you, B. Your love and support...everything. I don't know where I'd be or what I'd do without you'

'The feeling is mutual, Babe,' Brittany said softly, kissing her wife again, though much more chastely and briefly this time.

'I'm so proud of you, Santana,' Brittany said sincerely. 'And I love you so much, more than you could ever know.' She then briefly kneeled down so that she was eye level with Santana's baby bump, where she proceeded to stage-whisper, 'And you, my beautiful little Sugar Bean, I love so much more each and every single day too. And you are going to be the luckiest little girl in the world, because you are going to get to grow up in a world where you will never have to know the hatred and bigotry and struggles that your Mami and I have had to go through, just to be together, because we happen to be two girls who fell in love with each other. And its all because of your Mami. Not only is she the most beautiful girl in the world, but she's super smart and a great lawyer too. I'm so proud of her, and you should be too,' she said, winking at Santana, before finishing, 'I love you so much, little Sugar Bean, but we'll speak more when you get here. I can't wait to meet you,' she finished, standing up again and embracing her wife in a tight hug. As they hugged, Santana was overcome by emotion and whispered in her wife's ear a phrase that, though simple, to her wife expressed better than any grand gesture or fancy words how she felt,

'And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before'

Brittany smiled broadly and her eyes watered with tears of joy – both shed and unshed – and she paused briefly before she spoke again.

'Come on, San, it looks like people are starting to file out...is there anything else you need to do here? Or can we get out of here and get some food?'

Unfortunately, they couldn't get away that easily. Like after all monumental cases – which Santana did not know as this was the first one she had ever been a part of – there was a forty-five minute press conference which she not only had to sit through and pretend to pay attention and care about, even though the only thing she cared about was getting some Chinese takeaway and going back to the hotel room with her wife so they could be alone together and get back to their normal lives, but in which she also had to actively participate.

After that, of course, it was a veritible meet and greet with seemingly every single person in the gallery, whether they knew each other or not, wanted to talk to Santana and shake her hand take up her valueable time, and she was beginning to get frustrated. Until, of course, she was pleasantly surprised by none other than Brittany's sister Liz, and Mr Will Shuester, who embraced her with a powerful hug and an affirmation of how proud he was of her. Even after years of no longer being in his glee club, his positivity, and his praise was infectious, and despite his nerdiness and quirks and things she would tease him for when she was in high school, Will Shuester was one of those people whom Santana knew she could trust, and whom she honestly, legitimately loved like family, and his praise meant just as much, if not more, now that she was no longer his student and it was for something more important than a song performance, than it had in high school.

Which was good, as it kept her mood bouyant enough to deal with what came next: as per tradition, the two legal teams met in the corridor and shook hands and offer congratulations or condolences as appropriate. The last two individuals to make eye contact with each other, let alone shake hands, were David Pierce and Santana Pierce-Lopez. Eventually, David Pierce extended his hand out to her, hoping he could turn this awkward situation into the opportunity he had been looking for for years, but instead of taking the proferred hand, Santana simply crossed her arms across her chest and stared daggers at her father-in-law.

'Santana'

'Mr. P'

The tension was palpable between anyone who cared to notice. The other members of each legal team of course, finally did their internal arithmetic, put two and two together, and realised, based off the story Santana told during her closing arguments, the physical similarities between David Pierce and the girl Santana was kissing and embracing before the press conference, and the fact that they shared a surname – even if Santana's was hyphenated – and realised that this must be a long-held, deep-seeded family issue that they wanted no part of and the all went their separate ways, in order to be, well, anywhere else.

'I want to congratulate you, Santana,' David said, trying again. 'You conducted yourself extremely well and professionally in there, you did extremely well, and I have no doubt that you will become a very fine lawyer,' he said, trying to get the girl to lower her defences slightly before they got into anything more important or personal.

'That kind of praise coming from you would have made me very happy six years ago'

'I know,' he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. 'Nevertheless, it needs to be said. I'm proud of you'

'You lost that right six years ago when you cut us out of your life,' Santana said harshly and bitterly. 'Or haven't you been getting my birthday voicemails?'

'Oh, no, I've been getting them,' he said, almost chuckling.

'Good. I mean every word'

'I know'

'Then what the hell do you want?'

'I want...I want to know if there's anything...anything I can ever do to maybe...try to make things right'

Santana laughed a harsh, barking, almost cruel laugh at that thought. As far as she was concerned, that ship had sailed a long time ago.

'Are you serious? You think there's anything you can do? Do you have any idea...any conception at all of the hell you put us through? What you put your own daughter through?'

'I...I...I...'

'Shut up. No, you don't. You can't possibly, or you wouldn't be standing here. Do you have any idea how fragile and broken she was? How hard it was to get her back to some semblance of her old self? Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused her – and still cause her? You kicked her out of her own house, simply for loving me, and you gave her 10 minutes – ten fucking minutes – to collect all of her worldly belongings. She hasn't spoken to you or her mother ONCE since. Do you have any idea how many times I've held her in my arms, sobbing, because all she wanted to do was talk to you, or her mother, but she couldn't because you cut her off from her own family? Do you? Of course not, how could you!' – she could feel her temper rising and hear herself beginning to shout, but she didn't care. This was the first time she'd seen or heard from him since the disastrous even six years ago, and she _would_ defend her wife. Whilst she was working herself into a passionate diatribe, Brittany, sensing her wife's anger, came to stand beside her wife, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back and rubbing circles along it just the way Santana liked, at the same time placing her free hand inside Santana's. She continued, 'of course you couldn't! You cut her off from her own family! Well, guess what? She's got her own family now. Me. Me and our daughter! She doesn't need you and frankly we are happy without you, and the pain you've caused us, and now that this case is over we don't have to ever see or hear from you ever again, and if we do, it will be far too soon!' Santana was raging now, and Brittany squeezed her hand tightly to calm her down, and also to signal that she wanted to speak to her father.

'Dad,' her voice was calm, emotionless, numb. As if she had already cried all the tears she ever would over him. That hurt David Pierce more than anything else he could ever have imagined would.

'Sunshine'

'Don't call me that'

David visibly recoiled at that as if he had been slapped. Slapping, he thought, may have been kinder. But of course, he knew, given the situation he didn't particularly deserve kindness.

'Brittany'

'What do you want, Dad'

'I want to apologise. What I've done – what I've continued to do, was wrong. On every level, and I can't defend it and I don't know why I did for so long. My only defence is that I'm a stubborn old man, and I was afraid for my job, and –'

'Your job?! So you put us through that hell and it wasn't even for your own beliefs?! You slimy little Judas! I hope you enjoyed your thirty pieces of silver, you...' Santana began ranting, but was cut off again by Brittany signalling it was her turn to talk. Brittany just cocked her eyebrow at her father in a very Santana-like way.

'– and after it happened, I regretted it immediately, but I was too proud to do or say anything, and then I had hoped that maybe you, or even Santana, would come to talk to me on your own, and when you didn't it just made me more angry and stubborn, and then you both went off to Boston together, and by then...it was too late,' David finished, a bit lamely, hanging his head.

'You're right. It was too late,' Brittany said in a voice almost completely devoid of emotion – except to Santana, who detected a small amount of sadness and regret in her voice. 'There, you've apologised. You're absolved. Now leave me alone'

'No, no, Brittany, you don't get it. I don't want to be absolved of anything...I want to...I want to try to make it right. I know that its a long shot and everything, but I have to try'

'Why? Why now?'

'Well...it was the first time we'd all be in the same room since, well, the last time we all had dinner together. And I've wanted to for years, and when I heard you were going to get married I thought that I'd go to the wedding and do it, but when only Lizzie was invited and she told me that you didn't want to see me there, well, I thought I'd respect your wishes because its your day and I wanted you to be happy. And I see that you are happy. Which makes me happy. But I've wanted to...try to fix, as best I can anyway, my mistake for a long time now. I want to know my daughter again. My daughter, and her wife. I...I've already quit my job. This was going to be my last case with those people, regardless of the outcome, and I just...I had planned to try to do this anyway from the very beginning, but then when I found out at the beginning of the case that you're going have a baby...that in three months I'm going to be a grandfather and...'

'Oh hells no,' Santana interrupted. 'Over my dead body! You will be no such thing! You are not going to be a grand-anything to our daughter, except maybe an example of a grand asshole! So that's what this is about, you come around, all apologetic, trying to make nice, so that we'll forgive you and you can get visitation with Sugar, so that you can fill her brain with your hate filled lies and propaganda?! Oh, hell no! You are not going to get anywhere near our daughter...' she started rambling again, before Brittany squeezed her hand, hard.

'Ow, Britt, what was that for?!'

'Santana, can I talk to you _alone_ for a moment?' She asked, in a tone that meant 'this is not a question' before dragging her wife to a far corner of the room out of earshot of her father.

'Babe, what gives?' Santana asked.

'San, I don't like that you're making decisions about our daughter on your own. I get that you're the one who is pregnant and you have like, crazy nesting instincts and pregnancy hormones right now, but she is _our_ daughter and that is not a decision you get to make by yourself'

'What are you talking about, B? We discussed this like a bazillion times already, before'

'Yes, but that was before he came up to us and apologised and basically told us that he made a huge mistake and wants us all in his life again'

'You don't honestly believe him, do you, Britt?'

'I don't know whether I believe him or not, San, but its certainly at least as believable as your theory of him wanting to get back in our lives just to turn our own daughter against us,' she scolded.

'But B...'

'He's my Dad, Santana. You know how much I've missed him. And I know that, deep down, you've missed him too. I want to find out if he's serious, San. Because if he is, I want to see if maybe we can work on this...because I want Sugar to be able to know both sets of her grandparents. I want us to be part of a family again'

'But we already are a family, B. You, me and Sugar. And she'll have plenty of family around her, showering her with love, on the east coast. Where we live. She'll have us, and Liz, and she'll have all her "aunts" and "uncles" like Tina and Mike, and Lady Hummel, and Puck, and Quinn, and maybe even Berry, if Rachel plays her cards right. And our friends from University, too. And there's still my parents, if they ever decide to come back stateside for longer than a week at a time. She doesn't need to have people in her life who have caused us so much pain and heartache...'

Brittany could see how much pain this issue was causing Santana; it was like she had taken onto herself all the pain that she had long ago made herself numb to, as far as her family was concerned.

'Of course, baby, of course we are our own family. And I'm not saying she won't have her aunts and uncles and all that, but...flesh and blood grandparents are different. You, of all people, should know that.' Brittany regretted immediately the low-blow reference to Santana's abuela immediately, but she couldn't un-say them. Santana frowned slightly before speaking.

'Fine. Let's see what he has to say. But I make no promises beyond that, got it? None of this, "he's my dad, so I get the final say" nonsense. We're a team, and we make decisions together. Either we both want to see where this goes and have him around our daughter, or this goes no further, agreed?'

Brittany nodded enthusiastically.

'Fine. I hope you know that I'm only doing this because I love you so much and want to see you happy'

'I do. Thank you,' Brittany said, barely able to contain her happiness or excitement, kissing Santana passionately.

'So, how were you planning on doing this, then?' Santana asked.

'Well, obviously, we make him buy us a nice dinner at that expensive sit-in Chinese place down the street from the hotel. Including all of your...ahem...special...ahem...pregnancy substitution plates,' she said, coyly, and smiling like a fox. She of course may be willing to hear her father out, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to make him jump through some hoops first. Santana was definitely rubbing off on her. Santana smiled up at her wife, and they both began giggling and grinning like maniacs, before turning around and walking, pinkies linked, to where David Pierce still stood, nervously wrining his hands.

'Ok, Dad,' Brittany said, her face and voice blank once again. 'We've decided that we'll at least hear you out on what you have to say. We were going to have a celebratory meal at this nice Chinese place we found near our hotel. Come join us and buy us dinner,' she said, handing him the business card of the restaurant, before the girls turned to leave. She called over her shoulder just as they were still within earshot, 'We have reservations for seven-thirty'.


End file.
